


Repose

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Instructional Demonstration for Audience, Predicament Bondage, Punishment, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:44:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He’s brought in front of the gathered court in the mail ballroom, to serve as the night’s entertainment.





	Repose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IdMonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdMonster/gifts).



He’s brought in front of the gathered court in the main ballroom, to serve as the night’s entertainment. The walls are done up in yellow silk and the air is heavy with stares, just as it happened yesterday, and the day before that. March is marched inside in chains, his neck sweating and heavy under the thick collar, and at his sides are men he used to command.

Marsh walks slowly, ignoring the lewd looks and the whispers, steadying himself for what is to come. The first day, after his sentence, had been the hardest. They’d put him in the stocks in the yards, for the display and the perusal of the guardsmen and stableboys, and he’d been touched and played with and left wanting, hard and red-faced, his mind strangely abuzz. At the end of the night the Queen herself had come to see him, brushed his damp hair away from his face, and told Marsh that there would be many more nights to come where he could pay for what he’d done. If he was good, she’d promised, perhaps only the lord and ladies of the court would be a part of his humiliation.

Marsh had closed his eyes, turned his head into the Queen’s palm, and kissed her fingers. He’s been learning.

Today the Queen is waiting, chatting with one of her ladies with her arms crossed, leaning next to a wooden cross. That thing is large and heavy; it must have taken two or three men to wheel it in. Her smile is light and serene, and it’s the last thing Marsh sees before a thick blindfold is tied around his eyes.

Hands are on him in the darkness, and then he’s tied to cross by his arms, and when the rope connecting to the top of the cross is pulled he finds himself dangling in the air. Marsh kicks out, trying to take some of the sudden strain off his arms, but there are strong hands putting cuffs on his ankles and tying them to a heavy ring behind himself, so Marsh can’t get his feet under him or relieve any of the weight from his arms.

He cries out, fighting a twinge of sudden panic. He’s not in pain just yet, but he knows how quickly this position will turn to agony, and it’s hard to bite down on his tongue so that he doesn’t whimper doesn’t beg the Queen to put him back down. Distantly, Marsh can hear her speak. Look at him, she says. Look at him, and learn the price of treason.

Hands are on his hips, bringing his body back further. Even with his eyes blindfolded, Marsh can feel the heavy toy tied to the post behind the cross. It’s bigger than anything he’s ever been made to take during his sentence, and Marsh breathes in sharply. Words spill out of his mouth, begging the Queen not to do this, that he's sorry, so sorry. Anything else.

The Queen’s touch is cool on his face. She knows he won’t, the Queen says, because he's about to be shown what happens if he does. In her slow melodic voice, she tells Marsh that he's staying up there until the Queen is finished with her courtiers and that he can either hang by his arms and suffer through the pain, or he can relieve some of the pain by sitting on the toy. She tells him he should work himself onto it slowly, stretch himself open; big as it is, it'll hurt to take it in one go.

And Marsh _will_ be taking it, she promises, when his body finally gives up after hours and hours of hanging by his wrists. Then he hears her walk away, and Marsh hanging there, crying and still pleading. He can feel eyes on him, and the soft sound of laughers. At first, he refuses to do as he was told, refuses to even try and stretch himself out to slowly take it so by the time his arms give out, he’s completely unprepared, forced to take the massive thing in one go, with only the slick of his morning punishment easing the way. Marsh feels himself spacing out from fatigue and the edge of pain and strain on his muscles, but when he comes back to himself with a moan the toy slips in almost all in, and it’s so much. Tied up as he is, he keeps getting bursts of determination, rising up about halfway up the toy before his legs give out and he just sinks back down, and every time the shudder of relief of taking the strain off the muscles just makes him sink down further by reflex.

His thighs start cramping and he feels tears in his eyes from his pained muscles, but the only way to soothe it is to use his legs so that he's stretching them as much as he can, fucking himself on the toy with every move. And in all of this, he’s shamefully hard. There’s something about the looks he’s getting, the muffled laughter, the sweet relief he feels every time he sinks down on it further and his cramped legs hurt a little less. Marsh is confused about how it could feel so good because he’s in so much pain, but he quickly just gets fuckin delirious and hysterical so he’s fuckin himself crazy hard on the toy to try and distract himself from the pain.

But then, inevitably, he comes. And then the hurt is so, so  _good_.

He clearly must fuck himself on it again.

When the Queen comes back hours later, Marsh is incoherent, arms twitching with cramps, thighs shaking, and he’s seated all the way down on the big toy. And his cock is hard, and there’s dried come on his stomach. There are tears on his face; Marsh  is crying and begging to stop because he's been doing this for hours, he's come a handful of times and everything  _hurts_ he just wants - he wishes they were still lovers, maybe, remembers all the time when the Queen broke him and put him back together, but now she’s stepping behind him, his arms coming around him, and Marsh  starts shaking so badly in fear.

The Queen wraps a hand around his half-hard cock, that twitches as soon as its touched. It’s too much for Marsh, and he just breaks down and sobs. But she’s is still shushing him, telling him he's done such a good job, he's taken his punishment very well and it’s good to see that the lesson has clearly left an impact, he’s put out such a wonderful show, but now the Queen just needs him to come one more time, one last time for her, and then he can come down, can’t Marsh do that for her?

He can’t. But that won’t matter.

Marsh shakes his head and whines, but there's nothing he can do, he can’t stop the Queen, and gone as he is he wouldn't even if he could. He wants this to be over, wants to do whatever the Queen wants so that she’ll let him rest, so he just whimpers and shakes and tries his best to come quickly.

But it hurts too much, and he's not getting there, so the Queen encourages him to fuck himself on the toy some more. Clearly, he loves it, she says, if he's managed to come so much. His limbs are weak, his body lax, and his Queen’s hands are on his hips, pushing him down on the toy, and it’s fucking  _thick_ , so it chafes and aches and Marsh  is practically screaming, but it feels good too, painfully good, and his brain doesn't know how to rationalise it.

When she’s done with him, when he’s come all over himself with a shout and a sprout of hot come all over his stomach, her hands leave him and he feels a sense of loss he can’t explain. Then rougher hands are on him, soldier’s hands, untying him and pushing him off the cross, still blindfolded, and all Marsh can do is crumple up to the floor and try to catch his breath.

 


End file.
